Ghost in the Shell: Sakuhen
by Avia Jenith
Summary: When a body turns up at a beach coated in a strange white substance, Section 9 is called in to investigate. But as more bodies turn up, it could turn out to be much more than the murder case they baragined for... Back from unintended hiatus.
1. Off Switch

**AN:** Hi, welcome to my fic. I have a few things to say before we begin though. First off, this is my first attempt at a mystery of any kind, so I'm a bit dubious about it. I have tried my hardest to make it as good as possible though. Second, the rating is for a few things. You might notice the language as one of them. The other is that I have some intense things planned to happen, especially with the corpse. Not gorey and gruesome, just not necessarily pretty or something your younger siblings would like to think about right before bed. That sort of intense thing. Third, I intend this story to get long and involved, complicated even (though whether or not it turns out that way remains to be seen;) ). I would like to put a lot of time, effort, and research into making this a good, thought-out story that you can enjoy, but I would also rather not waste all that time this summer if no one's going to read it, or if you think this stinks.(Yes, I am aware I need to work on my self esteem issues) So please R&R! Tell me if you want more, tell me where to stick it, offer advice, give me criticism, just please, _please, **PLEASE **_tell me what you think! Now, on to the story! Enjoy!

Chapter One

Off Switch

He slowly lowered the corpse to the ground.

"No, not a corpse, a shell. A flawless shell housing the imperfect ghost and spirit."

In the moonlight the synthetic flesh sparkled and glistened like an unearthly gem. Reaching down, he repositioned the fair limbs into an exact mosaic.

"Each curve of this false temple shall spell out my word, my message." Carefully, he slid open the eyelids and twisted the head back over the shoulder.

"Look back upon the sin. Let your gaze show them the way."

The grey of early dawn glittered on his scene as he left to watch and wait.

------------------

Togusa and Bateau arrived at the scene and got out of the car having yet another philosophical conversation, or rather, argument.

"C'mon, Togusa, stop bringing up the food thing. I've told you before that even I still get cravings for the real deal. I may be a cyborg, but I still remember what it tastes like, and still have the cravings. And it's not good for a member of Section 9 to be seen salivating over memories." Bateau looked over at his brown haired coworker with his metal mechanical eyes as a crinkling sound came from Togusa. "Huh? Hey, what's that?"

"Oh, this?" Togusa said, holding up the energy bar he had been unwrapping, "My breakfast, that's what. I was running late this morning and haven't had a chance to eat yet."

"You mean you've had food all along!" Bateau demanded, "Then why the hell where you talking about food the whole ride here instead of just eating it!"

"Well excuse me, I didn't think you'd want me eating it in front of you since you didn't have any." Togusa took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Besides," he said with his mouth full, "It's funny seeing you drooling all over the steering wheel."

"What! I did not! Give me that!" Bateau swatted the bar from Togusa's hands, "You shouldn't be eating in front of the police, anyway," he smiled mischievously, "Besides, I think I might just be having one of those cravings right now."

"Now wait a minute!" Togusa said, trying to grab his breakfast back from the taller, stronger man. "If you want breakfast, pay for it yourself! Hey! Bateau!" They had reached the actual scene of the crime, and Bateau had stopped dead, dropping the contested food to the ground. "What is it?" He followed the other's gaze beyond the yellow stripes of wind-waving police tape, and felt his mouth drop.

"What the hell happened here?" A female body lay in the sand of the beach, face towards the city. A white, grainy substance was clearly visible where it lay scattered about the asphalt bike path. But what was most striking about the scene was the sparkling sheen that lay across the body and glittered on the black business suir in the mid-morning sun. Short cropped blonde hair rested stiffly on the head, coated with the same substance that crusted her fair skin. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the lifeless buildings of the city, their emerald irises dull with death, the only part of the grim tableau that didn't shine.

"Guess that's what they want to know. After all, that's our job, isn't it?" Bateau headed over to the body and bent down to inspect it. " Young female, Caucasian, fully prosthetic body, looks pretty physically fit, too."

"Now that's a scientific observation," Togusa quipped. "So why'd the boss send _us_ in? Isn't this a job for CSI?"

"One would think, but I think it has something to do with the white substance that's all over the scene. Not exactly a normal M.O." Bateau pulled out a wallet from a pocket of the victim's black slacks, grimacing as the material crackled. "As the major said, she's the head of one of the big cybernetic companies. Cops probably don't want to mess up a big case like this."

"What do you think this substance is?" Togusa asked, looking at the sparkling crust that coated the body, shirt, pants, skin, hair, and all. "And all the white stuff on the ground?" He glanced around the stretch of asphalt and the beach around them where the white crystals lay scattered like the remnants of a bizarre summer snow.

"Wow, 'stuff.' Where did you learn such technical scientific terms?" Bateau sniffed at the substance. "Doesn't have too much of a smell, but then again, I've only been able to smell the ocean salt ever since we got here. _Tachikoma! Can you analyze this substance for me? I need it identified." _One of the A.I. combat units replied an affirmative over the mental link, the projected image of the blue machine bobbing hyper-actively in his field of vision, thanks to the implant that let the Section 9 members communicate essentially telepathically. A white circle appeared in the other corner of his vision, the scrolling words telling him that Major Motoko Kusanagi was on the other line.

"_Status, Bateau."_

"_Nothing yet, the Tachikomas are analyzing something for us, then we're heading back."_

"_After taking the crime scene photos, of course," _Togusa interjected, _"You're probably going to want to see this."_

"_Mr. Bateau, sir! I've got the analysis for you! And thank you so much for caring about our ghosts!"_

"_What are they talking about, Bateau?"_ the Major asked.

"_Yeah, Bateau. We're on a case. This isn't the time for the Tachikoma's to be soul searching."_

"_That was humor, right, Mr. Bateau! That was a really great joke!" _The Tachikoma happily bobbed around in his vision again.

"_Just give me the damn analysis, Tachikoma!"_

"_It's sodium chloride! That was the joke, right? It was really easy to figure out!"_

"You mean it's table salt!" Togusa leaned over and stuck a moistened finger against the glittering sheen and tasted it, then pulled a face. "Yup, that's salt alright. But what's our vic doing coated in the stuff? It's like someone soaked her in salt water and let it crystallize."

"I don't know. But it looks like we're going to be having more late nights this week. C'mon, let's take the pictures and get back."

---------------------

The crime scene pictures flashed up on the screen one at a time, cycling through a second time before showing a mosaic of key images. Section 9 was gathered around together in front of the television; the major sat, legs crossed on the couch with her arms resting along the back, Chief Aramaki beside her, stroking his chin, Saito reclined quietly on the chair to their right with Togusa across from him, leaning forward from his matching chair with the remote, and Bateau, Pazu, and Ishikawa were holding up various walls, cans of cheap beer in hand.

The picture in the upper right zoomed out from the corner of the screen to show a woman's face. She was young looking, blonde hair hanging level with her chin perfectly placed. Intensely emerald green eyes echoed the slight smile she displayed while at the same time showing a hidden strength and hinting at an experienced mind that had seen many cunning business deals.

"Ms. Shizuka Suzuki, our victim, age 27. She's the head of Body Design Corporation, commonly called BD Corp." Togusa hit a button, and a corner of the photo switched to show a simplistic logo, the letters BDC in azure blue highlighted in soft purples. "Its an up-and-coming design and manufacturing company of fully prosthetic bodies, aimed at the newer, younger generations."

"That's the one that has all those new models, right?" the major said. "The overly curvaceous, very voluptuous females, and the beautifully handsome, perfectly muscled males?" She didn't quite manage to hide the tinge of sarcasm and disdain in her voice.

"Yep, that's the one," Bateau smiled. "Can't turn a corner anymore without seeing one of them. Honestly, they look more like Barbie dolls than girls, and the guys look like bishonen straight out of a cartoon."

"But were getting off topic," Togusa said. The image zoomed back out, and another one enlarged, the crime scene with the body and surrounding salty area. "This is what Ms. Suzuki looks like now." The images began to cycle through various close ups of the scene; the body, her wide-eyed face, the skin, the white, crystalline salt.

"Believe it or not, that's salt on her," Bateau said. "It was all over the place, and all over her body."

"Any indication about what it might mean?" Aramaki asked.

"Not a clue. But it did look like she'd been positioned, there might be something in that."

"What are you thinking, Bateau?" Kusanagi asked, her amethyst eyes still studying the pictures on the screen.

"I mean that her body position doesn't look natural. It's almost as if someone posed the body that way. Y'know, opened the eyes, laid her down, turned the head, that sort of thing."

"It's weird, I'll give it that," Pazu drawled, "but so what? It's not even a serial murder victim, just some stand-alone case. So why drag us in for one body, one weirdo in a whole world of psychopaths? Isn't CSI usually the Feds' job?" He gesticulated with the can before taking a swig.

Bateau crumpled his own can, then folded his arms and leaned harder into the wall. "You act as if it was you out there taking samples and photos all day! First time I've ever been on the wrong end of a salt shaker."

"I think Ms. Suzuki would agree," Aramaki replied, waving at the screen and glancing over at Bateau before turning his attention to Pazu. "But you do bring up a good point. If this were any ordinary case, then the police _would_ handle it."

"I guess that would depend on your definition of 'ordinary,'" Togusa interjected, looking at the photos.

"Well the fact of the matter is that it is not what, but _who_ that has brought this into our hands. Since it was a prominent cybernetic figurehead that was our victim, the Prime Minister is afraid of a panic from the remaining cybernetic leaders. So-"

"We've been given the task of keeping all this quiet and preventing a mass hysteria in the higher up muckety-mucks while still trying to catch this guy," Bateau interrupted.

Aramaki sighed. "That's about it, yes."

"Great, another babysitting job. So we wait for the coroner's repot on the autopsy, find out what killed our little lady, then trace it back to the damn freak show that did this. Day or two of work, max, and we're back to sitting on our asses waiting for a real case to come along," Bateau grumbled.

Boma came down the stairs, passing in front of Bateau and leaning on the back of Togusa's chair. "Coroner's report's in."

"Well speak of the devil. It's 4:15 now. This time tomorrow the bastard'll be behind bars."

"Don't be so eager. You might want to hear this first. According to the coroner, our victim was perfectly healthy."

"Other than being dead." The major quipped with a wry smile. "If she's dead, there has to be a C.O.D."

"See, that's just it. Far as can be made out, there's nothing wrong with her. It's almost as if someone just," Boma leaned over the back of Togusa's chair and pushed a button on the remote, turning off the television, "Hit her off switch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bateau asked. "Cybernetic bodies don't come with off switches. If they did, I'm sure a lot more people would be dead right now."

The major shifted on the couch. "That's not exactly true. Theoretically it would be possible to 'switch off' a cybernetic body by removing the consciousness that animates it. But the only way to do that is to transfer the mind from one body to another, such as when the body is damaged beyond repair."

"Sounds almost like you're talking about Ghosts."

She ignored the comment. "Well, Bateau, you wanted a real case. Is this interesting enough for you?"

"Maybe." He pushed himself off the wall as she stood up from her seat. "So what's the plan, Major?"

"It doesn't seem we have many leads to work on. We'll just have to dig up some of our own." She turned around quickly, shaking her short purple hair from her face. "Alright then, Pazu, Saito, Ishikawa, I want you diving the net, see what you can find out about the company, its employees, and Suzuki. Report to me if you find anything that could possibly be relevant. Boma, you go back to the coroner and keep digging. Maybe there was something they missed. Look for anything irregular. Bateau and Togusa, you're with me. We're going to Body Design Corporation to see if they can shed any light on this." There was a rumble of acknowledgements, and they went to their separate, assigned ways.

The investigation was underway.

**AN: **So, I hope it wasn't too bad. In fact, I hope it left you wanting to find out what happened. So, as I said at the top, please R&R and let me know what you thought and if I should continue.


	2. Popup

AN: This chapter was so hard to write. Not because its particularly wonderful or insightful, or even really that great, in my opinion, but because it just wouldn't come. I had that weird version of writer's block where you actually know what you want to happen instead of being stuck for a plot. It was the type where you're stuck for how to word it. I don't know, maybe I'm the only one who gets that type of block.

Anyway, I want to give a great big shout out to Ironraven. She really helped me to see some of the holes I have to fill in my macabre little murderer, and gave me some great insight and breakdowns on his personality, which were remarkably correct, considering you've only gotten to see his work for a few pages. But I would like to ask her a few things right now: Why do you say I'm not native to American English? I was born and raised in California, LA to be exact, and now live in the middle of nowhere in Arizona. If its my vocabulary, keep in mind that a lot of authors that I read are foreign, though mainly British. And second: Why do you say I'm close to your age? I'm still in my earlier years of college, and what you said sounded more like you've been out for a while.

Ah, well, I've got other readers to attend to. I hope you like this chapter, and sorry I took so long. I bet some of you thought I wasn't going to ever post again after how I started off on the first chappie! Well, we were all wrong, weren't we? Enjoy what I've written, for this chapter's (supposed to be) funny!

Note: When people are speaking in italics, it means that they're communicating through the mind link that Section 9 has. Does anyone know what the proper term for that is? Or which is the correct spelling, Bateau or Battou?

Chapter 2

Pop-ups

Building after building scraped against the mid-afternoon sky, the unbroken blue above echoed and distorted by the panes of mirrored windows adorning them. It was a gridded labyrinth of concrete, glass, and asphalt, and Togusa wasn't with them.

"_Togusa! Where the hell are you?"_ Bateau asked over the cyber link, tapping his fingers against a nearby telephone poll. He watched uninterestedly as the major pulled out a small handheld computer to verify they were in the right place.

"_Oh, nowhere."_ The reply came over the link casual and unhurried. Bateau grimaced.

"_Good. 'Cause that's where I am! Get your ass back here. If I have to sit through this interview, so should you."_ Togusa appeared behind him, emerging from a small five-and-dime store with a candy bar. He bowed to the clerk, his brown mullet flopping forward with the movement. "What! More food! Well you certainly have a one track mind."

"_You're_ the reason I didn't have breakfast. So don't blame me."

"Keep your head in the game," the Major said, standing up from where she had leant against a wall, "We're still on the clock. This is the place."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Bateau mocked jokingly. Togusa smiled, beginning to place his purchase in his coat. "Give me that!" The other swiped the sweet huffily, then followed their scantily clad boss across the street.

The building before them was different from the rest, standing out against the bleak greyness of those on either side. It was an example of the latest style of modern architecture, conservative with the gaudy decorations or impersonal glass usually used by the sky-rises. White stone blocks rose up 50 stories, punctuated by oblong windows tinted blue. At the ground level stretched a simplistic colonnade braced by immaculately clean glass-fronted display cases. Inside the cases-

"Boy, _that's_ cheerful," Bateau remarked, grimacing at the prosthetic bodies on display. Designer clothing clung to made-up examples of BD Corp.'s most popular models, the bodies themselves positioned in brightly colored fantasy scenes like shopping mannequins. "They look human enough, but I've seen more life in the eyes of some mortuary guests."

"Let's just hope the only bodies here are the ones that haven't been filled yet." The major grasped the silver door handles and pulled open the double doors marked with the blue and purple letters of the logo. "Here we go." They had barely passed through the portal when a state-of-the-art secretary android shuffled up to them. Bright blue lifeless eyes peered hard at them as the severely-bunned blonde head titled in a bird like way to inspect them with a soft mechanical whirring.

"Weapons, including your side arms and hidden knives, must please be left outside." The cold voice the robot issued in its request seemed at odds with the attempt at politeness and force.

"Is that so?" The Major quirked an eyebrow at the stiffly standing 'girl' and pulled out a badge. "Public Security, Section 9." The other cocked her head to the other side and shifted her gaze to the badge, seeming to process the images and information. The cold blue eyes snapped back to the Major and the head straightened up.

"Ms. Suzuki's secretary will see you and take your questions." She spun a quarter turn to the left and twisted to point blandly at the door of a plain looking elevator unused by the visitors and customers. "Please step forward to this elevator. 34th floor, it will be the last door at the end of the hall." The turn was immediately completed, leaving the back of the drably cut black suit to recede as she took her previous place by a potted palm tree in the far right corner of the room.

"Shall we?" Shifting her short violet hair to better cover the plugs on the back of her neck, the Major flashed her companions a smile and strode in the elevator, pressing the indicated floor button. With a cheery ding, the number 34 lit up on the wall, and the drowsy music washed over them as they ascended. A few moments passed in the richly oak paneled interior and the doors slid open to the new floor. As promised, the door at the farthest end bore a shining ebony plaque engraved with the victim's name, President Shizuka Suzuki, draped in a solemn black veil.

Inside, a young woman busily waited, deep cobalt hair tied back in a tight plait resting on her shoulder. The girl looked up as they entered the large foyer, then nodded as Motoko showed her badge, stood, bowed, and gestured at some chairs that faced her desk by the large tinted windows. "You're Public Security, Section 9, right? I was told you'd be stopping by. I'm Ino Yuguchi, Ms. Suzuki's secretary. How can I help you?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could point me towards the restroom." Motoko smiled disarmingly at the secretary. Togusa made a choking, surprised noise as Ino smiled back and gave the directions to the Major, meeting Battou's eyeturrets as she thanked the girl and left the office.

"_Where's she going?"_

"_Didn't you hear her? To the john."_

"_That's not like her. I mean, why now?"_

"_I don't know, to powder her nose?"_ Battou laughed slightly over the telepathic link as the door creaked softly. Ino noticed, and went to shut the door behind the major. "So, I guess you're the one who's going to fill us in then," he said aloud to the girl.

She sat down behind the desk again. "Yes, as much as I can. But I'm really only her secretary, so there's probably not much I can tell you."

The conversation didn't improve from there. The extent of what they had been able to find out was: Ms. Suzuki had arrived at work at the usual time the previous morning, done her usual workload of business meetings and important decisions, then left at her usual overtime hour of 2 am. Nothing unusual had happened, as usual.

"_Wow, we're getting **tons **of help with **this **information!" _Battou grumbled, "_This is a corporate big wig's office, for God's sake! Where's all the scandal?"_

"_Maybe she's not that scandalous," _Togusa suggested_, "A company head honcho with a clean nose would make a nice change." _Though his eyes hadn't left the secretary, they refocused on her as the clacking of a keyboard caught his attention. Her eyes seemed slightly unfocused and glassy, her head lolled a little toward her chest. But he was a distracted from worrying about it when the major's voice cut through his thoughts.

"_I tend to agree with Battou. This place is too clean. Let's see if the others have anything that might give us a clue what to dig for. Pazu! Saito! Ishikawa! Report!"_

Diving the net for information had become a pattern for them. Search, search, search, turn up the same things, then search some more. The tedium was broken after a few hours by the Major.

"_Pazu! Saito! Ishikawa! Report!"_

"_Just drinking a few beers, having a few laughs, and generally ignoring our assignment," _Ishikawa drawled.

"_Great. So what have you found?"_

"_You want the good news or the bad news first?"_

"_The good news. We could use some over here."_

"_Good news it is. We have some possible suspects."_

"_That _is_ good news. Who are they?"_

"_That's the bad news. Every anti-prosthetic group out there could be behind this. It fits what they'd be aiming for: the destruction of a highly successful prosthetic firm through the erasure of their leader. Y'know, the old 'cut off the snake's head' sort of thing. But the MO just doesn't seem like something any of them would do. Heck, I doubt it's something they **could** do."_

The major was quiet for a moment, probably assessing what she'd been told. "_Was there anything else you found?"_

"_Yeah, that our computer's clock might be off, that we may have won ten million yen, and that our computer may not be protected from th-"_

"_The Sakuhen virus," the Major cut in._

"_Yep. Look's like a stupid kid hacker's joke, so I didn't open it." _Ishikawa paused a moment, considering. "How'd you know?"

"_I knew the secretary might be employing the principle of CYA, so I brought my stealth gear and hacked into her cyber brain after I was proven correct. I'm looking at Suzuki's computer right now. Seems our little secretary wasn't as techno-savvy as she thought. She opened the Sakuhen pop-up."_

Togusa said something about how he had thought the girl was acting awkward, and that it must have been her, but Ishikawa didn't quite hear it over his own laughing.

"_So you're there in disguise, Major? Invisible, probably," _Batou's face was straight with just a hint of frustration on the outside, but inside, he was laughing, too. "_I knew it had to be something like that."_

"_Care to explain yourself, Major?" _Togusa asked.

"By the way, for legal reasons, I'd like to inform you that this whole conversation has been, and will continue to be, monitored. Is that alright with you?" Ino's voice jumped back into the conversation suddenly. _"The camera's behind you to the left,_" added the major over the mental link, "_so we should keep the camera happy with a little more meaningless conversation. I'll take care of making the girl keep up her end, and any information we can share over the link."_

"No problem, ma'am. Thanks," Togusa answered aloud, responding both to the girl's fake question and the Major at the same time.

"So you've already given us a general idea of your employer's timeline," Battou said, "but let's get down to the juicy bits. You have any ideas where Ms. Suzuki went after work? Any late night rendezvouses?"

There was a bit of clacking on the keyboard as Ino/Motoko looked up the information on the computer. "I'm sorry, but I have no record of that information. It's not really my place. _According to her schedule and day planner stored here, after she would leave here at 2 she would always stop by the same restaurant for a meal. A little family-run thing. I wonder if that would be considered breakfast or dinner?"_

"_Fascinating, but not all that helpful," _Battou grumped"_Your turn, Togusa."_

"_Yeah, yeah. _This could be important, miss. Do you happen to know anyone she might have had any contact with? A boyfriend, maybe, or perhaps just a friend? Even a stranger?"

"Nope. Again, I'm sorry, but it's not a secretary's place know such things. I just arrange her business meetings."

"_Right, a young girl like her hasn't heard any gossip, or made any herself, about her successful boss."_ Togusa shifted slightly to hide looking at the spot where the invisible Major must be standing. "_Anything from there?"_

"_Not a thing. There is some gossip in a personal file here of Ino's, but all the rumors are about how she **doesn't**__have any guy friends, and a little guesswork off of it on her sexual preferences."_

"_Lovely, but again not helpful," _Battou said, flippantly. "Great, thanks, miss. Is there anything you _can_ tell us?"

"I can't, sir. I've told you everything I know. _It's true, there's nothing else I can find on this computer without having the time and equipment to really hack it."_

"_We can always take it back to HQ,"_ suggested Battou.

"_No, I'm starting to think Togusa was right. This place really is squeaky clean."_

"_Hey! I thought **I** was right," _Battou complained jokingly as he thanked the now wakening Ino and they left the office. He continued once they were out of earshot, speaking as the Major rejoined them. "Yeah, Togusa may be right, but I still have his candy bar." The mentioned item was removed from his pocket and waved triumphantly in the air, then opened with one strong rip, "So there." They walked into the elevator as Battou took a bite. Then he pulled a face.

"Still miss the taste of food, Battou?" Togusa laughed. "That was a horseradish healthbar I bought especially for you, not candy!"

"Ugh! Togusa! I'm gonna-" The elevator door shut, blocking out the rest of the conversation.

AN: So. How'd I do? I know I didn't advance the plot much, but hopefully you picked up on the little bit I left. More actually happened here than meets the reading eye. So prepare yourself, the next chapter is coming, though it too might take a while…

Sorry if it does!

And I'm really sorry if this confused you.


	3. Fleshie

**AN:** I am so, so, so, so sorry that its been over half a year since I updated this. But I have an excuse. I started college, got really sick, had a mental breakdown of sorts, fixed it, and started a new job. Not to mention having to keep up now with all the school stuff. But I bet you can imagine that gorey murder stories aren't exactly the best things to be contemplating while depressed. The good thing is that, with all this time, I've got a good portion of the plot planned out, and a lot of small details too. I'll do my best to not ever let this go so long again, but I can't promise anything. Though a lot of good reviews might help me feel inspired to keep writing...

Anyway, you came for the story.

Chapter 3

**Fleshie**

_He pulled his hands back from the coffee colored skin, the set up finally complete, then produced a clean white square of linen. Proceeding to wipe off the fragrant mixture of blood and mechanical fluid, he broke the silence._

"_You may have been a titan in your field, but even a titan is not a god."_

_He shifted his unrepentant gaze from the man's still form to stare for a moment at the flickering flame that danced atop his candle before casting it down to allow its rage to grow…_

* * *

The radio mumbled a somewhat interesting news-report through the car's speakers, a calm drone punctuated by occasional breathy s's and k's. For a little while now it had been the only sound in the vehicle, Batou somehow managing to silently glare through his unmovable eye-turrets while the Major seemed to be pondering the depths of her cyber-mind from behind the wheel.

'_Better than diving while driving,'_ Togusa thought wryly to himself. The silence was starting to wear at him, and he was beginning to regret his little food prank. But only slightly, so instead of sitting in boredom and regret, he reached over and twisted the volume knob up to a more audible level. The Major cast him a glance before shrugging and continuing to pay half-attention to the road. A man was speaking in the condescending voice of an intellectual attempting to explain a complicated scientific concept to the uneducated general public.

"What we have found has had an extreme positive consequence on the reduction of the polarization of the cybernetic neuorological community in the deliberation about the existence of the human soul, commonly referred to in public conversation as the 'ghost.'"

There was a soft snort from Batou as the voice from the radio finally took a breath. "That takes longer to figure out that it even does to say." But the scientist was speaking again, his internal thesaurus apparently stuck in overdrive.

"­­­- discovery has been informally dubbed the Unconscious Umbilical. Testing and experimentation have shown a correlation between this previously enigmatic portion of the brain with the unique thought patterns that are currently and commonly used to identify individual personality during full-cyborg transferences. However, upon exploration into the corresponding area of those participants with a certain percentage or more cybernetic parts, this Unconscious Umbilical was absent. Instead, present in the personality thought patterns was a small formerly undetectable difference now informally called the Cyber Navel. Following further investigation into this apparent anomaly, it is now believed that the two are mutually exclusive, the Unconscious Umbilical present only in those with minimal cyberization, which is then replaced by the Cyber Navel upon extensive cyber modifications."

"Hey, that's great! There's finally something Togusa has that we don't!" Batou laughed, leaning over to grin teasingly at the other man.

"You mean besides great sex?" He allowed himself a moment to imagine his wife then smirked in smug satisfaction as Batou feigned being hurt.

"Ouch. You're not pulling any punches, are you?"

"Alright, you two. You've been at it all day," the Major put in. "Am I going to have to separate-?" She cut off, her eyes narrowing slightly in business-like concentration. A quick glance at Togusa, and he nodded, turning off the radio to allow her an easier mental conversation with Chief Aramaki. After a silent moment, her eyes began flickering across the concrete horizon, finally stopping on an ever-growing plume of smoke they hadn't noticed before which she then aimed the car toward with a fearless wrench of the wheel.

"A slight change in plans. There's a new high profile crime scene that's burning a hole in the police's pocket."

* * *

The sound of sirens had been steadily growing louder as they had approached their destination, the undulating irritation reaching a peak as the three Section 9 detectives pulled to a stop. Sweaty soot-covered firefighters were tiredly re-rolling thick canvas hoses and finally quieting the raucous din as they slid into the truck seats and pulled away from the crime scene. As they stepped out of the car, they were blasted with hot air infused with the mingling scents of charred protein, melted chemicals, ash and damp earth.

Police scrambled around them, setting up yellow tape barriers as the trio squelched through the fire hose run-off that swirled with charred debris. A haughty and officious looking officer stomped up to them before they could reach the actual scene, his uniform coated in a layer of black soot. Batou smirked; from the crisp seams, perfectly placed buttons and badges, and other fine details, it was obvious he had spent a great deal of time keeping the uniform immaculate before arriving at the scene just to instantly appear grimy anyway. Captain Davenport, as declared by his nametag, eyed with cold appraisal the expensive model of the major's body, Batou's eye-turrets, and Togusa's apparent lack of any cyberization at all.

"Took you Section 9 people long enough! Its _your_ scene, but I have to wait for-farking-ever for you to arrive while I've got a suspect from my _own_ case cooling his heels and fabricating more of an unbreakable cover story with every passing second!" Davenport's tone had gotten angrier and angrier as he forged on, but also became more and more under his breath until it sounded, by the end, as if he was talking to himself more than them. His dark eyes flicked around, as if suddenly remembering where he was again. "And I _still_ have to show you around the crime scene before I can get back to him!" he huffed in conclusion.

The major simply responded, "Well, its important that we take our time with the scene. The smallest detail is always the most important, especially because we have reason to believe this is more than just a random terrorist attack." Batou and Togusa looked over at her, only their training keeping them from betraying their surprise.

"Either way, it sure is weird. Glad its your case now," Davenport said.

Now Batou was really confused. '_Now why am I feeling that this is more than just an arson case? Are you going to fill us in or what, Motoko?'_

She continued as if the men hadn't interrupted her point. "That being the case, this is probably going to take awhile. To ease things so you don't feel tempted to rush, we'll send Togusa over to help with your suspect."

"_What? Why not you or Batou? You're certainly more intimidating than me."_

"_See, there's this little thing called seniority…"_ Batou answered with a laugh.

But Davenport had recovered from his shock at the suggestion. "My unit is a crack squad of the finest officers on the force equipped with the best cybernetic equipment the police department can buy! What could a _fleshie_ possible be able to do that _we_ couldn't?!"

Motoko narrowed her eyes in a look that had meant doom for many criminals. "He's a valued member of Section 9, that should be enough for you. Plus, he used to be a detective for your same police force, which I believe makes him the most qualified person here for the job."

The slight didn't go unnoticed, but neither did her look. After a moment, the man nodded brusquely at Togusa, who shrugged and began heading back to the car, mentally coming, "_Call me when you're done. I'll come pick you up."_ The remaining three trudged into the burnt building as the engine rumbled to life.

He drove toward the downtown police station, the soft rumble of the engine and the gentle vibrations lulling the brown-haired man into sentimental reminiscences of his days as an everyday detective, as a cop instead of a secret agent of sorts. Before he realized it, he found himself there. For a moment he simply took in the memories of his old work place, what had once been his home away from home not so very long ago. Shutting the door with a '_whump,'_ he proceeded into the station, flashing his Section 9 badge for access to the back rooms.

The cops there eyed him suspiciously for a moment before he introduced himself as the man to replace Davenport for their interrogation. Then they seemed resigned and more than a little derisive toward him, though he was lead behind the one-way mirror. It irked him that they thought so little of him simply due to his lack of cyber-technology, especially because, during his day here, his squad of '_fleshies'_ had had just as impressive a record as this supposed elite cyber group.

Togusa took a long look at the man that was going to occupy him for god-knew how-long. The suspect sat slumped in his simple stainless steel chair, his bottom barely in the seat, arms drooped across the armrests, hands dangling, one leg stretched under the empty table and one braced at the knee against the table's edge, tilting the chair slightly back onto two legs. Black, worn boots poked out from under baggy jeans of an undeterminable dark color, and an overly-large hoodie of a reddish-brown hue sickenly close to dried blood brushed against stringy, shoulder-length black hair that nearly obscured the green eyes that were the only bright thing about him.

The man also seemed to have no cyberization. He began to see why they were having so much trouble with him. The current interrogator came into the hidden room with him with a look of condescension.

"That _fleshie _is one tough bastard to crack. We've never been able to get this one to talk. But, hey, if you think you can help, go right on ahead and waste your time banging your head against his wall," the detective said with a smirk.

Togusa quirked an eyebrow, then smiled slightly at the other. He pushed past him, leaving the hidden room to place a hand against the cold door handle and enter into the interrogation cell.

* * *

The three cautiously trod into the remains of the edifice, sticking to a narrow path marked with thin string to minimize contamination of a scene already pretty much destroyed by hose water and firefighter boots. The lines of string wound sinuously through a trail that carefully negotiated their feet through the nearly collapsed building, leading the two agents and their guide past the damaged remains of many interesting shapes that lay over, under and around scorched, fallen ceiling and support beams. Eyes open for any small detail, it wasn't long before they realized what the items were: art supplies and materials, from monumental slabs of marble to large stretched canvases to spools of twisted, pliable wire, many displaying evidence of half-completed work- a sculpted arm jutting here, a splash of red paint poking through there.

"A group of artists used this place as a workshop and hang-out. Seems they had a rather diverse set of talents among them. This warehouse is owned by one of the member's wealthy, art-loving parents who donated the space to the cause. Of course, this makes all the members and attendees obvious suspects at first, after all, they're the ones with the access. Problem is, scuttlebutt around the surrounding buildings is that these people's lives are their work, which then essentially eliminates the possibility of them being the ones to torch the building while their pieces were inside," Davenport explained, waving a hand to indicate the ruined art about them as they headed deeper into the warehouse. "We've found pieces from each artist, so none can even be suspected of removing their things then setting it aflame."

They approached the rear wall of the building, a mountain of raw, uncut stone barely visible in the smoky indoor gloom. This was obviously where the main event of the crime, the part that made it 'weird' for Davenport, had happened, as small numbered evidence markers and flags began appearing, growing in number and frequency as they approached the pile. Finally, they rounded the backside of the mass of marble, and what greeted them made Motoko and Batou stop short in surprise.

"Here it is," Davenport said softly to the stunned Section 9 agents and looking at the burned body, "I call this piece 'Fellow Flambé.'"

**AN:** Well, it was mostly set up for the next chapter, but I hoped you liked it anyway. Please people, I need some help. First, the vic needs a name. His basic description is a young, handsome black guy that's an artist. What type, I won't tell, that's for next time, but the best suggestion will be his name, depending on if I like any of them. Also, I need some help on a project of mine. If anyone knows a lot about theology/mythology, I need some help coming up with some, for lack of a better term, 'stories' for the project. Please let me know if you think you can help.

Feed the inspiration, write reviews. Feed the author, send tacos!


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